


Loving You Is Not a Regret

by dudewhatswiththeshorts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, anniversary edition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudewhatswiththeshorts/pseuds/dudewhatswiththeshorts
Summary: Dean doesn't remember the date. And then he does.AKA a fic where Castiel shows his insecurities and Dean finally kisses his angel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my very dear, very annoying friend @antitomatoblog on tumblr. I'm posting this now because she won't send me her editorial notes on my final draft.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> This is a fic dedicated to my favorite hunter-and-angel pairing.

“Oh.”

Dean looks up from his laptop and over to Cas. Team Free Will is in between jobs, and with Sam back and and Mary alive, the time away from hunting should feel nice. Dean is twitchy, however– even on break –and it interferes with his relaxation period. He spends his time looking for cases. At first, Cas protested the act and attempted to get Dean’s head away from the hunting life for a while. When that didn’t work, Cas gave in and started helping with the search.

“What? Did you find something?”

“No, I...,” Cas starts before trailing off. He clenches his jaw firmly, the gears in his mind ticking away before he speaks again. 

“It’s nothing.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“I mean– I forgot,” Cas elaborates with a strange look on his face, “Forgot what I was going to say.”

“You... forgot what you were going to say.”

Cas nods. “Yes.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face and shuts his laptop. “You’re a shit liar, dude.”

“I’m not– I’m not lying Dean.” Cas almost looks offended. 

“Hey, if you’re gonna be like that, fine by me.”

“Dean, I’m not... trying ‘to be like that.’” Cas backpedals, “I just don’t think you’d want to... hear this. It isn’t of urgency anyhow.”

Dean frowns, wondering why Cas doesn’t feel comfortable talking with him. They’ve had a couple of rough patches this year, sure, but Dean thought they were... good. Or at least they were talking. Which was definitely an improvement from their usual emotionally stunted attitudes towards each other. 

“If it’s bothering you, Cas, I wanna hear it. Lay it on me,” Dean tries to sound as  _Sam-like_  as possible. He tries to be a good listener or whatever for once in his life. “You wouldn’t have said anything about it if it wasn’t important.”

Cas’ face pinches in annoyance. “I did’t say anything about it, Dean.”

“Shuddup, you know what I mean,” Dean rolls his eyes, “You brought it up. Sort of.”

Cas continues to hold the same bitchy face.

“Okay, so I’m curious,” Dean finally admits, “Humor me.”

For some reason this causes Cas’ resolve to break. “You’re truly interested?”

When Dean nods once, waves a hand in approval, Cas relaxes a bit. “You don’t remember what today is by any chance, do you?”

“Uh,” Dean blanks, caught off guard. Should he know what today is? Is it like, Castiel’s birthday? Does Cas even  _have_  a birthday? “Sunday...?”

Cas’ face falls a bit, but the look is gone so fast that Dean wonders if he imagined it. “It’s September 18th,” Cas explains slowly, as if that will help ring any bells. When no look of recognition crosses Dean’s face Castiel continues. “Today is the eight year anniversary of, um...probably a good memory I’d assume. For you. And for me, though you may not care to remember it. I mean, you are probably thankful of the date, but I guess certain... aspects of it probably aren’t as remarkable. I know I am ‘family,’ Dean, but I’m not sure how it applies to this occasion. I don’t know if we’d celebrate it exactly. It’s not very remarkable, but....”

Cas trails off, a nervous look on his face. The uncertain expression throws Dean off. Cas is involved in this, Dean thinks. Involved in something eight years ago.... What happened eight years ago? What year was that? Dean must’ve been twenty-nine then, fall of 2008. What happened in fall of 2008?

Oh.

_Oh._

Eight years ago, Dean woke up in a box.

Eight years ago, he dug himself out of the ground, gasping for air.

Eight years ago, he was free from hell, free from the carving and the cutting. The bruising and harming.

Eight years ago Dean Winchester was saved.

“Cas,” Dean croaks out, suddenly understanding, overpowered by an emotion he isn’t familiar with. “Fuck, Cas, you saved me. That’s– that’s not nothing. That’s– that’s a date to celebrate, that’s a date to be thankful for. What do you– I mean, don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Cas looks at Dean curiously, taken aback. Like he wasn’t sure Dean would be happy to remember such a date.

“The family thing, Cas. Yeah, you’re family. So what are you talking about?”

Cas opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

That’s when it dawns on Dean. “I met you that day. In that convenience store. You blew my ear drums out, but it was, uh, still a date I guess.” Dean chuckles.

“I wasn’t sure you would want to celebrate that aspect,” Cas admits quietly, “It feels that I’ve brought you nothing but pain these past few years.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean says, “Don’t do what I do. Don’t get all– all sad and self deprecative. Family means family. Family means that today is a good day. A day to be celebrated. Today marks the beginning of Team Free Will, yeah?”

Cas smiles, but the uncertainty is still in his gaze. “I understand I’m family Dean. Thank you.”

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

“I don’t know why. I’ve done nothing.”

“Really? We just had this big conversation about you literally pulling me out of hell and you say you’ve done nothing?” Dean asks, incredulously.

“Any angel in my garrison was strong enough to do such a thing. I was under orders.”

Dean doesn’t know really what to do with that information. He feels somewhat... angry. Like this entire thing is really nothing to Cas. The doubts start flooding in because Dean can’t be Dean Winchester without good ol’ Winchester Self Depreciation™. “Do you regret saving me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Cas is on his feet in a second, catching Dean off guard. “No!” He spits venomously, anger and power simmering in his eyes. “Dean Winchester, there is never a day, an hour, a minute– not even a  _second_  –that goes by where I feel like I regret saving you.” 

The heat in those words, the meaning behind them cause a lump to form in Dean’s throat. He feels oddly vulnerable, like Cas has peeled back his skin and is looking inside him. He feels like he should crack a joke to lighten the mood, the cut away the tension between him.

The words never have a change to leave Dean’s lips.

Cas stalks over to him slowly, otherworldly power radiating off of him in waves. There’s a feel of authority, divinity about him, and Dean tastes metal on his tongue, like there’s a strong current in the air.

“Do you know what I saw when I followed my orders to descend into hell, to save The Righteous Man?”

Dean swallows thickly and shakes his head. Cas grabs his shoulder (the left one, always the left one) and yanks him out of his chair. Castiel pushes him harshly and Dean stumbles backwards a few steps before Cas is shoving him against one of the library bookshelves. 

“I saw a soul brighter than any I’d ever seen in my  _existence_. An existence that lasted millennia. I’ve watched humanity for so long, and yet I’d never seen someone like you,” Cas growls out, his tone dangerous, demanding, “I’d never seen a soul like yours. You were untainted, Dean. You were glowing. Even as I watched you pick up a knife, twist it into someone who hung limply from your rack–” Dean flinches, but Castiel keeps talking, pushing Dean into the books behind him, “You were untainted. Because you are a good man, Castiel grips Dean’s shoulder tighter, gets right up in Dean’s face. “You are a righteous man. You are The Righteous Man.”

Dean swallows again, chokes on the air around him. He doesn’t remember how to speak, what to say, how to act. He doesn’t know what to do. There’s an angel pinned against him, an angel made of grace and might, but Dean is not scared. This is someone familiar, someone Dean has loved for so long, and he knows that Castiel will never hurt him.

“How could you believe that saving you is regretful, inconsequential,” the words are muttered, angry, but Cas’ face smooths out, the power drains from him. The only thing left is the tension, the electric charge, that has followed them since the day they met in that barn. “You taught me something, Dean. Awoke something I’d been told to rid of over and over again.”

Cas’ voice gets soft and gentle.

“You taught me to feel.”

Dean’s breathing hitches at the words. Silence falls between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. Anticipation wraps around the both of them. Excitement. Hesitance. The left over residue of hurt. These feelings swirl in the unspoken words between them. 

Dean suddenly– so very suddenly – _needs_. He aches with the feeling and so he finally allows all of the denial to fall away, all of his defenses to drop. Suddenly he’s tipping forward, falling faster and faster and faster, the world rushing around him.

And then it’s happening.

The Righteous Man is kissing his angel.

It’s the strangest feeling to Dean Winchester. He wants to cry, he wants to laugh. He smiles against Cas’ lips. It makes it hard to kiss. Dean’s frustrated because of that. The different emotions building up within him make him dizzy. Every kiss he’s ever had was heated, passionate, lustful.

This kiss is just so fucking  _warm_.

Dean feels like he’s coming home as Cas wraps his strong arms around him and Dean threads his fingers into Cas’ hair. They fumble through it, laughing and breathing against each other’s mouths more than actually kissing. Disbelief makes it hard for them to kiss and kiss and kiss. Instead, Dean’s mind is running on the fact that it’s happening,  _oh God, it’s finally happening._  

When they part, breathless and giddy, Dean leans his forehead against Castiel’s, bites his lip shyly, closes his eyes and basks in the afterglow. He’s high on Cas. The idea makes him huff lightly in laughter. 

“Thanks,” he finally says, voice husky, but happy.

“For what?” Cas’ breath is warm against his cheek.

Dean swallows. “I don’t know. For, uh, that. The kiss I mean. And, saving me, I guess.”

Cas snorts, “You don’t sound so sure.”

“Shuddup,” Dean snarks back, “I’m not– good. At, uh, this.”

The mood sours, so Dean tries to pull away from Cas, unable to by the arms still around him. He feels trapped, vulnerable, scared, disappointed. Sad. He tries to keep his voice playful as he speaks, denial leading his way, “I’m really not. Good at this. Any of this. So, uh, you’d better back out now before it’s too late.” 

Cas seems to sense the insincerity of Dean’s tone and he dives back in for another kiss. It’s more desperate, sloppier, needier. All the things they didn’t have time to say the first time they say through this.

“Eight years of fighting, hunting, dying at your side has trained me to spend the rest of my existence loving you.”

Dean, a little breathless, doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Thanks,” he settles for like an idiot.

Cas smiles lightly and untangles himself from Dean, cups the man’s freckled cheeks in his warm hands. “Thank  _you_. For the kiss. For letting me save you.”

“I didn’t technically have anything to do with the saving part.”

“Dean, learn to take a compliment.” Cas teases. His eyes are singing with affection as he continues his talk. “Will you ever allow me to be kind to you? Will you ever let me worship you? Tell you how beautiful I think you are, how strong and brave of a person you are? Will you ever let me kiss your body, Dean? Will you ever let me treat you like you’ve treated others all your life? With compassion and care and an open heart?”

Dean blushes bright pink, again, speechless. Cas is the only person he’s ever been this flustered around before. “I– I don’t think I really treat anyone that great or whatever–”

“But you do,” Cas insists, “You are a good man Dean." 

“Cas–”

“Your ‘self-deprecative’ ways, or however you say it, are showing.” 

Dean snorts. There's a shaky feeling inside his chest, and fear sits cold and hard in his stomach. He decides, as he leans into Cas’ touch, that he can deal with those emotions later. Now, he should embrace the warmth that coddles him all over.

They share shaky smiles and tentative touches. After all, this is what they’ve craved for eight years. They explore each other slowly first, kissing small things like knuckles and wrists, noses and eyelids. When they do finally reach Dean’s room later into the night, Cas makes good on his promise to worship Dean and Dean lays back and lets him.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr: dudewhatswiththeshorts.tumblr.com


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